


Absolutely, Positively

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Get Together, M/M, Natasha Is Done With Your Bullshit, Phil And Clint Are Idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1188732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson <em>hated</em> him. Clint Barton was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent certain of this fact. </p><p>(Or alternatively: Phil Coulson knew how to dance. Really – he did! Clint Barton just had a talent for turning him into the clumsiest, most awkward person on the planet.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolutely, Positively

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm back! I also have an official tumblr now, so if you want to send me writing prompts check out authorkurikuri.tumblr.com! 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: None

“He hates me!” Clint announced as he plopped himself down into the chair across from Natasha in the SHIELD headquarters cafeteria. 

“Coulson?” she asked, not bothering to look up from whatever she was reading on her phone, as if this was an outburst she heard every Tuesday (hint: she heard it more often than that). 

“Who else?” Clint replied, slumping over and burying his face in his hands. 

“Well, what did he do this time?” Natasha questioned, kicking Clint in the shin under the table in an attempt to break through his brooding attitude. 

“You know how they make us take those stupid etiquette lessons every few years for gala and high society infiltration?” Clint asked, his question rhetorical. “Well Coulson was in my class and we got to the ballroom dancing part, and he was doing fine with everyone else – I mean, he’s practically stealing the spotlight – but then he got to _me_ and in the five minutes we danced together I swear he stepped on my toes at every possible opportunity and _then_ when he was supposed to dip me, he _dropped_ me! SHEILD’s most coordinated badass _dropped_ me!”

“Maybe he was nervous,” Natasha suggested, although she sounded less than convinced. 

“Nervous? He’s the epitome of self confidence! That’s what makes him so h – ” Clint blushed, his face turning bright red as he realized what he’d been about to say, quickly trying to cover up his mistake. “ – so, uh, good at his job.” 

Yeah, that wouldn’t have convinced his neighbor’s five year old, and Clint turned even redder as Natasha gave him her best unimpressed look. She also appeared slightly amused, which never boded well for Clint. 

“Well, what could you have done to make him hate you?” Natasha asked, politely ignoring Clint’s slip up. 

“I don’t know,” the archer sighed, putting his arms down on the table and resting his face on them, obscuring his (still bright red) face. “We’ve only done, like, six ops together and he tries to get out of working with me as much as possible.”

“I thought Director Fury wanted to make him your permanent handler,” Natasha said, frowning. 

“Well, yeah. We work well together – really well, actually. I even kind of like him,” Clint replied, looking up at the other agent again. “Er, as a handler. I like him as a handler.” 

“Of course,” Natasha answered, her tone that of an adult who was humoring a small child. 

“I mean, I thought he didn’t like me because I mouthed off a bit at first,” Clint continued, trying to ignore his best friend’s smugness, “but I stopped after the first two ops and he still won’t give me the time of day.” 

“What do you want me to do about it?” Natasha asked, taking a sip of her coffee and raising one perfect eyebrow at Clint. 

“Could you maybe try your sneaky interrogation thing on him to figure out what I did to piss him off?” Clint requested, giving the red head his best puppy dog eyes. 

“What’s in it for me?” Natasha replied, unfazed. 

“Well, what do you want?” Clint asked.

He realized that was exactly the wrong thing to say the moment the words left his mouth. The most mischievous looking smirk Clint had ever seen spread across Natasha’s face, and he felt his heart rate increase. She set down her coffee cup and leaned in closer. Clint swallowed and hoped he would make it out of this with his dignity intact – or at least his life. 

\---

Phil Coulson was, at that very moment, hiding in his office and trying not to bang his head on his desk. So far he was largely unsuccessful. Not that you could really blame him for wanting to put himself out of his misery after the way he’d just fucked up. 

He’d dropped Clint Barton. _He’d dropped Clint fucking Barton._ He’d dropped the man who he was hopelessly pining over and who he desperately wanted to ask out, but was too chicken to. It wasn’t like he was a bad dancer, even! He knew how to dance. (Really – he did!) Clint Barton just had a talent for turning him into the clumsiest, most awkward person on the planet. 

Just last week he’d nearly run into a wall after catching a glimpse of Barton laughing at some joke Sitwell had made, and the week prior to that he’d tripped and spilled his entire mug of coffee over Barton’s chest after getting distracted by the archer’s new haircut. A month ago he’d accidentally shot out a light while practicing at the range when Barton came in to do some shooting – and show off his gorgeous biceps. 

(Of course, all of the junior agents thought that he’d plunged them into darkness on purpose because shooting with maximum visibility was too boring for him, and he wasn’t about to discourage that rumor.)

Basically whenever Barton was in sight, things were bound to go badly. Fuck his life.

(Of course, he’d much rather fuck Barton.) 

Phil sighed again as he heard someone knock on his office door. He idly hoped it wasn’t Barton.

“Come in,” he called, shuffling his paperwork slightly and hoping that he looked like he had been working instead of having an internal crisis.

Clint Barton walked inside, and wasn’t that just his luck? Phil steeled himself and hoped he’d get out of this conversation with minimal embarrassment – the odds of which were so close to zero that they probably weren’t even worth considering. 

\---

Clint sat down in the comfortable looking chair across the desk from Coulson and tried to force a smile. It probably ended up looking more like a grimace. The archer resisted the urge to fiddle with the nearly invisible comm in his ear, not wanting to give it away to Coulson. Instead he fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket and tried not to look like he was in pain. He probably wasn’t successful if Coulson’s mildly concerned expression was anything to go by. 

“Hi,” Clint said, breaking the silence and hoping profusely that Natasha started talking to him – _now_. 

That had been her condition, after all. She wouldn’t interrogate Coulson herself, but she’d tell Clint how to. Clint still thought that it was very, very bad idea, but he was staring to get a little desperate at this point. Coulson didn’t even have to come out of this actually liking him, just not hating him. It would help Clint sleep easier at night. It’s really not fun when the person you’re head over heels for hates your guts with a passion so strong that they’re willing to sacrifice their normal maturity just to inconvenience you. 

(Clint may or may not have been thinking of the coffee incident. Seriously – was there any more cliché way of showing your passive aggressive hatred?) 

“What do you want Agent Barton?” Coulson questioned, his voice cold and his expression icy. “Because if you’re just here to waste more of my time – ”

“Ask him what he’s doing Friday night,” Natasha instructed, her voice soft in Clint’s ear. 

He blinked in surprise and opened his mouth before closing it again, no words coming out. He knew he’d asked Natasha for her help and he knew that her advice was almost always spot on, but he had absolutely no idea what she was hoping to accomplish here, unless she was trying to make his relationship with Coulson even more awkward.

He trusted her, though. Mostly. 

“I, uh. I was just wondering if you had anything planned for Friday,” Clint managed, trying to keep his voice steady and hoping that his face hadn’t turned completely red yet. 

Now it was Coulson’s turn to blink in surprise, his eyes large and owlish as they peered at Clint. He didn’t answer for a few moments and Clint was just about to apologize and hightail it out of there when he finally spoke. 

“Why do you ask?” the agent replied, an undercurrent of suspicion in his tone. 

“Tell him you want to make up for being a smartass by buying him coffee,” Natasha said, and Clint almost tried to tell her that he’d already apologized before remembering that while he could hear Natasha, Coulson couldn’t, and that would be really awkward to try and explain.

“I was wondering if you’d let me buy you coffee,” Clint started and Coulson’s eyes seemed to get even wider, despite the fact that Clint was certain that that wasn’t physically possible. “You know, to apologize.” 

“Apologize for what?” Coulson asked, frowning. 

“For, well, being kind of a dick to you on our first couple of ops,” Clint replied, carefully studying his jeans and avoiding eye contact.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing – I was the one who dropped you,” Coulson blurted, catching Clint off guard. “And stepped on your toes. And spilled coffee on you. Let me pay.”

“I – you don’t need to – ” Clint stuttered, his blush returning full force.

“Yes, I do,” Coulson replied, determined. “Plus, there’s this new coffee shop near my apartment that I’ve been meaning to try.” 

“If you insist…” Clint said, trying not to think too hard about Coulson’s apartment and possibly going back to Coulson’s apartment after coffee.

“I insist,” Coulson answered, and for a moment Clint thought he saw the tips of the other agent’s ears turn slightly pink. 

“Okay,” Clint replied, staring at Coulson. 

“Okay,” Coulson echoed, staring at Clint.

“I should go,” Clint said, still staring at Coulson. 

“Okay,” Coulson repeated, still staring back and looking almost dazed. “I’ll text you the details.” 

“Okay,” Clint replied and sat there for a moment longer before remembering that to leave he had to actually stand up. “I’ll just leave now.” 

He almost tripped over his own feet as he tried to scramble out of Coulson’s office, and he nearly crashed into Deputy Director Hill as he darted out into the hallway, earning himself an annoyed glare. 

“Tasha, what just happened?” Clint hissed once he was a good distance away from Coulson’s office and out of earshot of any other SHIELD agent. “What did I just do?”

“You just scored yourself a date,” Natasha answered, as if this was something normal and completely mundane. 

“But I didn’t want a date! I just wanted him to stop hating me!” Clint exclaimed, trying to keep his mind from drifting to all of the disgustingly domestic fantasies he had involving one Agent Phil Coulson. 

“We both know that’s bullshit, голу́бка,” Natasha snorted, sounding less than impressed at his protests. “I’m sure you two will make a sickeningly cute couple.” 

“But he doesn’t like me like that,” Clint replied weakly. “And even if he did, I’d just fuck it all up. You know how I am with relationships.” 

“It’s just one date, Clint,” Natasha sighed, although her tone was a little more soothing than before. “Think of it this way – you can’t possibly make your relationship any worse.” 

Well. She had a point there.

\---

Phil Coulson was running late. Normally this wouldn’t be too much of a problem, except for the fact that his schedule was currently twenty minutes behind. Meaning his coffee-date-thing with Clint Barton had started about twenty minutes ago. What sort of asshole was late to their own apology coffee date? Phil hoped that Barton wouldn’t be too mad after he explained that he’d had to sort out an incident in R&D involving sentient grapefruits who didn’t seem to care too much for their scientist captors. At least Barton, as a fellow SHIELD agent, would probably be okay with him delaying their date for something like that.

Not that this was date. It was an apology-coffee. Not. A. Date. 

Phil sighed and attempted to remind himself of this fact, although it wasn’t exactly easy when the part of him which was hopelessly in love with the archer kept trying to read into it too deeply. Both he and Barton had already agreed that this was an _apology_ so why did his subconscious have to keep calling it a date? 

The SHIELD agent finally made it to the coffee shop where they had decided to meet and was relieved to see Barton still there, sitting at a small table in the far corner. However, whatever happiness he’d felt vanished as he took in the rest of the scene.

Occupying the chair across from Barton was an attractive Japanese man, probably in his late twenties to early thirties. Phil felt his heart clench as Barton leaned in even closer to the other man, a flirtatious smile on his lips. Phil tried to ignore the way the other man’s fingertips brushed over Barton’s arm and the way Barton leaned into the touch, his pupils wide and eyes dark. 

Phil turned and walked out the door, wondering why he’d ever thought Clint Barton would be interested in someone like him.

\---

“He stood me up!” Clint announced as he flopped down on Natasha’s bed, face down. 

“He stood you up?” Natasha repeated, clearly surprised. 

“Yeah,” Clint replied sullenly, his voice slightly muffled by Natasha’s comforter. “I waited there for a whole hour looking like a complete idiot. I _am_ a complete idiot.” 

“You’re not an idiot,” Natasha assured him, rubbing his shoulders soothingly. “Sometimes.” 

“I hate you,” Clint muttered petulantly. 

Just then, his phone beeped. 

“Are you going to check that?” Natasha asked after Clint made no move to do so. 

“No,” Clint answered.

Natasha rolled her eyes before reaching over to dig Clint’s phone out of his jacket pocket and scrolling through his texts. 

“It’s from Coulson,” she said, as if that would convince Clint to read it.

It nearly did.

“I don’t want to talk to him ever again,” Clint moaned, burying his face further into the blankets. “ _Ever._ ”

“He says he’s sorry that he missed your coffee session and that it was because he got caught up in official SHIELD business,” Natasha continued, ignoring Clint’s protests. 

“I still don’t want to talk to him ever again,” Clint replied, trying to cover his ears with his hands to block out Natasha’s words. 

“He didn’t purposely stand you up, you know,” Natasha said, carding a hand through Clint’s soft blond hair. “You could try again.”

“I’m not listening to your advice anymore,” Clint muttered, but he leaned into her touch. 

“Well you’re an idiot,” Natasha replied evenly. 

“But I’m _your_ idiot,” Clint said mockingly. 

“No, you’re Coulson’s idiot,” Natasha answered, smirking slightly. 

Clint flipped her the bird. 

\---

“Care to tell me why you stood Barton up yesterday?” a smooth female voice asked, causing Phil to nearly jump out of his chair in surprise. 

He looked up from his paperwork to find Natasha Romanov lounging in the chair on the other side of his desk with a false air of casualness about her, one eyebrow neatly arched in question. 

“I already explained to Barton that I got caught up in – ” Phil started, only to be cut off by the other agent. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Romanov replied her words clipped and her gaze icy. “If you actually signed out at the time that the employee log claims you did you would have only been twenty minutes late. Clint waited for an hour.”

Phil felt his heart clench at that, and for a moment an image of the archer sitting all alone in the coffee shop popped into his mind before he was able to remind himself that Barton was anything but lonely.

“Look, I was trying to be respectful. He looked like he was having a good time with the other man there and I didn’t want to interrupt – ” Phil answered, a touch defensive. 

“What other man?” Romanov asked, a confused frown on her face. 

“The Japanese man who he was flirt – ah, talking to,” Phil replied, trying to forget the coy smile that had definitely not been aimed at him and the low, sexy laugh which hadn’t been meant for his ears. 

The red haired woman said something in Russian that Phil presumed was some sort of impolite expletive, and he wondered what exactly it was that he’d missed. Something important probably.

“Wait here,” she ordered before stalking off, closing his office door with more force than strictly necessary.

Phil blinked again before going back to his paperwork. 

\---

“Coulson says he saw you chatting up some other guy while at the coffee shop,” Natasha announced without preamble as she walked up to Clint at the shooting range.

“What? I wasn’t – ” Clint started, putting down his bow and turning to frown at the other agent before remembering Hikaru. “Um. Well, I didn’t mean to – ”

“You didn’t mean to flirt with some random man or you didn’t mean for Coulson to see it?” Natasha asked, cocking her head. 

“I wasn’t trying to flirt with him!” Clint protested, blushing slightly. “He’s on the US Olympic team and we started talking about bows and the next thing I know he’s giving me his number and asking me if I’d like to go out to dinner with him – ”

“Did you say yes?” Natasha questioned, folding her arms over her chest. 

“No,” Clint replied. 

“Then tell that to Coulson,” Natasha said simply before turning her back to him. 

“But – ” Clint started.

“I’m done trying to save this train wreck,” Natasha announced before marching out the door. 

“Fuck,” Clint muttered. 

\---

“Hey,” a low voice said, making the hairs on the back of Phil’s neck stand on end. 

He looked up to find Clint Barton leaning against his doorframe, looking flustered, attractive, and so goddamn perfect Phil could almost cry. He tore his eyes away from the archer as quickly as possible and glared down at his paperwork, hoping that none of the admiration welling up inside of him showed on his face.

“Yes?” Phil asked, trying to sound as uninterested as possible. 

“Do you have a moment?” Barton replied, stepping fully into the room. 

“Not really. I have to – ” Phil answered, half of him hoping that his rudeness would push Barton away and half of him hoping that Barton would stay despite it. 

“I just need a moment,” Barton said and butterflies flooded Phil’s insides again. 

“Okay,” he replied after a pause, sighing and looking up at Barton again. 

“Natasha told me about you seeing me with Hikaru,” Barton started and Phil felt his heart sinking again as he prepared to be told off. 

“Barton, I don’t care if you’re g– ” Phil started only for Barton to cut him off. 

“I didn’t think you would,” the archer replied. “I just wanted you to know that when he asked me out I turned him down.”

Phil blinked in surprise, confused. 

“But you two seemed…” Phil said, unable to bring himself to say ‘perfect’ or ‘meant for each other.’

“I turned him down because there’s already someone else I’d rather go out with,” Barton replied, giving Phil a very pointed look, begging him to understand something. 

Of course, Phil had no clue what. 

“Well why are you telling me this?” Phil answered, frowning. “I promise I – ”

“Oh my god, I’m trying to tell you that I _like_ you!” the archer exclaimed, standing up from the chair. “Look – just – forget it. I’ll just leave now – ”

“Wait! I – ” Phil started, standing up –

– and knocking over his entire desk in the process. It fell forward with a crash, his lamp cracking as it hit the floor, his pens clattering every which way and his paperwork fluttering around in a whirlwind of white. 

“Are you alright, Sir?” Barton asked, his tone anxious as he helped Phil up. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“I’m fine,” Phil insisted, although he made not move to wriggle out of the archer’s grasp. “The only thing injured here is my pride. You’re not hurt either, are you?”

“Not a scratch,” Barton assured him, smiling slightly. “But I have to say, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to throw your desk at me.”

“Ah, yes – I’m so angry that you declared your affections for me that I felt the need to attack you with my entire desk,” Phil said, deadpan.

He realized he’d said the wrong thing as soon as Barton took his hand off of his shoulder so quickly that it was like the archer had been burned. 

“I didn’t mean – ” Phil began. 

“No, I’m one who should be apologizing, Sir. I shouldn’t have – ” Barton replied, backing away slightly, a pained expression on his face. 

Phil interrupted him with a kiss. It only lasted a moment, as the other agent was too shocked to really respond to the kiss, staring at Phil with wide eyes and a light blush dusting his cheeks. 

“I’m more than okay with you liking me,” Phil stated softly, “Clint.”

“I thought you hated me,” Clint replied. 

“You thought I hated you?” Phil parroted, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would you think that?”

“Uh, well, you spilled coffee on me, you dropped me and stepped on my toes when we were dancing, you never request me for ops…” Clint trailed off, frowning as Phil started laughing. 

“You thought that that meant I hated you?” Phil asked, an embarrassed smile on his face. 

“What did mean, then?” Clint questioned, pouting slightly. 

“It meant that when I’m distracted by the most attractive man I’ve ever met I turn into the world’s clumsiest secret agent,” Phil replied, leaning over to pick a stray paperclip out of Clint’s hair. 

“Oh,” Clint said, feeling like a complete idiot, before moving in for a proper kiss.


End file.
